


Elevator Talk

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [7]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, F/M, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Roger Peralta's A+ Parenting, Trauma, bamf!team, current abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-04-21 17:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22096921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: Roger’s hands were on either side of Jake’s shoulders, pushing him back against the side of the elevator wall.Jake knew he could push the older man off, easily. He used to do these drills all the time at the Academy, and his dad wasn’t exactly a super fit perp caught doing a B&E.Instead, his arms came up defensively, as if to counter the hit that his body screamed at him was coming.Request fic!
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Series: Foray into B99 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 32
Kudos: 1002
Collections: B99





	Elevator Talk

Jake was promising Amy that he would buy a broom for his apartment when he heard the elevator doors ding.

He ignored it at first, in favor of continuing his conversation, but Amy’s eyes fixed over his shoulder, widening slightly.

Jake’s smile slipped slightly, and he swiveled in his chair to see what it was.

Who it was.

His dad was walking towards him.

Jake’s smile vanished, and his hands clenched around the arms of the chairs. The change in the atmosphere was palpable - Jake’s daddy issues were a pretty established fact at this point, and after the last time he had come by… they were wary.

Not to mention, Jake had been complaining about how frustrating it was to have his mom back with a, quote, ‘dick of a dad’.

Jake glanced back to Amy, and saw that she had gone stone-faced, gripping the pen in her hand so tightly it might burst.

Jake had slipped up. He had been ranting - slightly drunkenly at Shaw’s, but rightfully so - about how much he hated his mom being back with his dad, and how she didn’t know how terrible he _really_ was. Amy had suggested he was being overdramatic, and Jake had, in all his drunken glory, pointed his beer at her and said, “Tell that to all the hospital bills I racked up, Ames.”

Amy had, at that point, downed her entire glass in one go, took his arm, and suggested they go for a walk.

That was about when Jake realized he had fucked up.

So now, here came one Captain Roger Peralta, pilot uniform on, but sans suitcase, either oblivious to or ignoring the stares of every set of eyes in the precinct. They ranged from hostile - Gina -, to downright furious - Amy -, to wary - everyone else - but all Jake felt was a growing sense of fear.

No matter how much time passed, that feeling always remained. Fear of being hurt had morphed into the fear of the reaction to being hurt, into some weird, meta, fear of the fear he felt every time anyway.

Jake knew he had issues on top of issues.

Seeing his dad didn’t exactly help to resolve them.

Roger walked up to Jake’s desk, and he clapped his hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Jake, son, good to see you!” His voice was cheery.

“What do you want, dad?” Jake asked coldly, brushing his hand off of his shoulder.

The look Roger fixed him with as he did so made Jake’s adrenaline spike, and he swallowed down the apology that had immediately jumped into his throat.

After a moment of glaring, Roger smiled. Too much teeth. It looked fake to most, but to Jake, it was just plain predatory.

“I just wanted to see you! Now that your mom and I are back together, I thought the two of us could get together. Talk it out.”

Jake’s jaw worked for a moment, before saying, “No, thanks. I have work to do.” Refusing his father was always… difficult. On the one hand, it was pure fear instinct - Jake had learned from the time he could think that it was best not to tell his dad no. On the second, more humiliating hand, even after all this time, Jake found himself wanting to impress his dad. Maybe, just maybe, he found himself thinking every now and then, if he said the right words in the exact right order, everything would be fine.

Of course, that was delusional.

Which was why it was so embarrassing to admit that Jake had those thoughts.

Which was why he would never admit them, Obviously the healthy choice.

Roger’s smile twitched. When he spoke, his voice was slightly icier, sharper.

“I think it would be a good idea, if we did. We have a lot to discuss.” His hand was back on Jake’s shoulder, and he squeezed it just a bit too tightly.

Jake grimaced, but Amy butted in before he could say anything.

“Mr. Peralta, how… pleasant to see you.” Her voice was overly high - Amy was terrible at lying - and noticeably aggressive. “Jake and I have been working on a pretty tough case, recently, and I’m going to need him for overtime.”

“Overtime, sure.” Roger chuckled. It sounded empty. “If that’s what you two call it.”

Amy flushed red, and her head ducked down, struck quiet.

Jake felt a bolt of anger surge through him, momentarily overpowering the dread that had curled up in his chest.

“Hey, _dad_, why don’t we go talk right now? It’ll be fast. There’s not much to say.” Jake stood up, shaking off Roger’s hand once again.

Roger smiled tightly, and gestured towards the door.

Amy stood up from her chair, making it roll back, face still tinged red, but eyes resolute.

“I’ll go with you.” She said, a touch too loudly, but ignored the way everyone’s heads swiveled to see what was causing the commotion.

“No need.” Roger slapped Jake on the back, who was careful not to flinch. Not with everyone’s eyes on them. Curse Amy’s squeaky chair wheels, and Hitchcock for ‘using’ all of the lubing oil.

“It’s fine, Ames. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” Jake looked into Amy’s eyes meaningfully, before striding to the elevator, trying not to appear like he was walking to death row. He didn’t want Amy to follow, didn’t want her to get put into harm’s way.

Roger followed after him, and Jake hated that he seemed to hover in his peripherals, just enough out of view to set his nerves on edge.

His dad knew what he was doing, and even in the elevator, managed to stand just so as to make Jake uneasy.

Once the doors dinged shut, Jake swiveled to face his dad, who was already moving

Roger’s hands were on either side of Jake’s shoulders, pushing him back against the side of the elevator wall.

Jake knew he could push the older man off, easily. He used to do these drills all the time at the Academy, and his dad wasn’t exactly a super fit perp caught doing a B&E.

Instead, his arms came up defensively, as if to counter the hit that his body screamed at him was coming.

The blow didn’t come. Instead, his dad just leaned forward, pressing into Jake’s personal space, invading it and getting into his face.

Jake hated it when his dad would to that - it made every part of him scream to run, but he never had anywhere to go, just creating an immediate shock of nervous energy that, when he was younger, would result in him just crying on the spot. He had quickly learned not to do that. Now, he just froze up, body tensing and pressing further back against the cool metal behind him.

“Hey,” Roger’s voice was sharp, “What did you tell your little girlfriend?”

Jake’s adrenaline spiked, if possible, even higher. Not Amy - he couldn’t go anywhere near Amy. Jake would kill him first.

Just a few minutes ago, Jake would have thought he meant it hyperbolically. In this precise moment, he realized he was not.

But Amy was safe. He just had to-

“Answer me!” Roger gave him a shake, and Jake felt his head bang against the wall.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing, Jacob. Tell me what you told her! Did you tell her about-?”

"The abuse?" Jake shot back, "No, I didn't." Jake racked his brain for a plausible excuse. “She’s just mad because she wanted to impress mom, and she didn’t get a chance to because you showed up.”

“Really? You expect me to believe that?” His dad got even further into his personal space, and Jake wanted to rip off his own skin just to get a bit of distance. He couldn’t even breathe, it was like Roger was stealing the air from his lungs.

Jake couldn’t even reply, breathlessness making it impossible to speak. He swore he was getting dizzy, and wondered that, if his knees buckled, his dad would catch him, or just let him fall.

“Do you?” Roger spat, ignoring - or perhaps enjoying - his son’s reaction to his proximity. He let go of one of Jake’s shoulders, hand coming up and slapping Jake across the face.

Jake felt his head turn before he felt the pain of the hit. Jake had just enough time to think, _Please not again_, before it burst across the side of his face, and Jake could practically feel it turning red as he turned back to face Roger.

He used his now-free shoulder to fully raise his arm to shield his face, as his dad raised his own hand to hit him again, eyes closing instinctively to try to hide from the pain he knew was coming.

There was the sound of a ding, and then the woosh of elevator doors opening.

And then the very distinctive voice of Sergeant Terry Jeffords, shouting, “Get on the ground!”

Jake felt the hand on his other shoulder release, felt the physical presence of his dad vanish from in front of him.

He heard the commotion, the sound of overlapping voices, knew they were from his team. But he couldn’t seem to focus on what they were all saying.

He knew that his dad was no longer in front of him. But he was still tensed up, couldn’t bring himself to lower his arm. It was like he was stuck in the moment.

He knew that the pain was not going to be coming. But he couldn’t make himself open his eyes.

He had room to breathe. But he couldn’t.

Jake idly realized he was shaking, still stuck to the wall like his life depended on it.

When he felt a hand on his raised arm, he flinched so hard he hit the wall next to him, making pain burst across his shoulder. He couldn’t- he couldn’t make himself relax. Not when all he could think about was how much it hurt, how much it always hurt.

The hand didn’t try to touch him again, and Jake slowly used his arm, the one not blocking his face, to feel for the handrest on the elevator wall, before half-sitting, half-falling down to the floor of the elevator. His eyes were still screwed shut, and he still _couldn’t breathe_ but he could feel his hand twitching, wanting to lower it, but still not feeling like he was able to.

He felt like he was frozen in place.

Jake was aware of the noise around him, like a loud, untuned radio, broadcasting sound but without anyone’s voice coming through.

Then, he heard one of the voices say something, and it went quiet.

Just one voice, now.

Soft.

In front of him, but a little bit far away.

Not in his face, like his dad had been.

“-ake, Jake, hey, it’s okay. Come on. Open your eyes for me, yeah? You can do that. I know you can, okay? Come back to me, Jake. Please.”

Jake managed to slowly force them open, body screaming that, when he did, his dad’s face was going to be in front of him, a hand was going to be coming down towards him.

The lights of the elevator were bright, reflecting off the empty, chrome space in front of him. Amy was across from him, looking at him with wide, fearful eyes.

Jake blinked at her, wanted to reassure her that he was fine, that his dad hadn’t hurt her, but his tongue felt like a dead weight, and he still couldn’t breathe.

Jake realized his vision was spotting.

He really should breathe.

But he couldn’t make himself do it.

“Jake, you need to breathe.” Amy made to reach out to him, and his eyes snapped back shut, pulling back further, muscles tensing.

It was easier to open them again, with the promise of seeing Amy looking back at him. When he did, Jake saw that Amy looked like she was going to cry. Or panic. Possibly both. Probably both.

He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to open his mouth to do it. He hoped that his eyes could convey what he hoped to say.

“Step aside.” Rosa’s voice came through, and she stepped in next to Amy.

Amy looked like she wasn’t going to budge, but a murmur from Terry had her up and out of the elevator after one last hesitant glance towards him.

It was just him and Rosa.

Rosa was terrifying, but Jake felt secure in her presence.

“Yo, dummy, I need you to breathe. Or did you forget how?”

Jake felt his mouth twitch towards a smile, even as Rosa’s face got progressively less in-focus.

She looked… concerned.

“1,000 pushups. You can do it.”

Jake sucked in a breath, before coughing as the air burned his lungs. Once he did, he felt how badly his body needed it, taking in deep lungfuls of air, even as it felt like his chest was going to burst.

“Nice. Knew you could do it.” Rosa smiled at him.

Jake didn’t have time to fully appreciate it, too busy trying to give his body the oxygen it needed. He wanted to make a joke, consequences be damned, but it vanished before he had a chance.

Rosa glanced out the elevator doors, which Jake could now see was being held open by Gina’s non-texting arm, before getting up.

“Oh. I get- have to leave, now.”  
She looked absolutely relieved to get out of there, the level of emotions she was feeling probably more than she wanted to experience in a year’s worth of living, so Jake didn’t begrudge her practically booking it out of the elevator.

Charles slipped in front of him, next. His usually-grinning face was set to distinct worry, and, while he sat slightly closer than Amy and Rosa had, he was still giving Jake plenty of room.

Jake could practically feel himself relaxng, even if slightly, at Charles’ presence. He was a weird guy, but Jake genuinely cared about him. And, Charles wasn’t exactly a threat, considering his extreme, bordering on unhealthy, loyalty to his friend.

“Hey, Jake. Are you alright?” Charles grimaced, “No, of course you’re not- what was I thinking? Oh, no, I’m going to make this worse.” He turned towards the elevator doors, “I’m going to screw this up, guys, I don’t… what should I be doing?” Then, he snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know! My classic Charles conversations! So, I was planning on telling you about this later, but, yesterday I found these mushrooms growing in Hercules’ basement - I’ve been using them to make a traditional Albanian stew! I can run home and grab some for later, it’s supposed to loosen up _everything_.”

As Charles rambled on about exactly how one benefited from this supposed ‘loosening’, jake felt his muscles start to relax, tension ebbing away. After a few minutes - actually, Jake didn’t know how long it was, except that Charles was now on his third tangent - he felt his shoulders come down from around his ears, and his hand from from its defensive position to his side.

“Hey, there we go!” Charles made an aborted attempt to lift his hand to do a high-five, but clearly thought better of it.

Jake reached out, hand near the ground, but palm upturned. Charles looked at him, then at the hand, then slapped it gently, as his face split into a wide smile.

Jake grinned back.  
Jake could practically feel the relief on Charles’ face, and then Amy was back in front of him, closer still. She hadn't cried, which Jake was grateful for - he never wanted to make her cry - but she still looked so hesitant, so on edge.

Jake wanted to assuage her concern. Make her smile, too, if he was lucky.

He swallowed, then licked his lips.

“I’m okay, Ames.”

His voice was rough, and he had to swallow back a cough after, but the smile that spread across her face made it worth it.

She reached out, hesitantly, and Jake took her hand, holding it in his own.

“I knew something was up - the way he was looking at you, Jake, I was just so worried - I’m so sorry I didn’t stop him from being in here alone with you-”

“It’s okay. Thank you. For getting help.” Jake spoke, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Amy looked sad, still, but her smile was genuine.

Suddenly, Jake felt exhausted.

Hit by a car - which he had been before, memorably - tired.

The only thing keeping him from sleeping on the spot was that it would probably make them get worried about him all over again.

So instead, he clambered to his feet, blinking against the wave of exhaustion that seeped through his body. He let go of Amy’s hand so he could lean heavily against the wall, not wanting to fall back down again.

“You want me to carry you, Jake?” Terry asked carefully, sticking his head into the elevator. Into Jake’s view.

Jake shook his head automatically, then considered it. He really didn’t want to take the elevator back up, and he felt too bone-tired to walk up all the flights of stairs.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Just…” Jake hesitated, “Don’t grab my shoulders, please?” Of course, Terry could just say no and do whatever he wanted, anyway.

“Of course.” Terry’s voice was soft, even as rage flitted across his face, before being carefully shoved away.

Terry wrapped his arm under Jake’s knees, the other across the middle of his back, before scooping him up into the air.

Jake tucked his hands against his chest, still a little too tense to just let them dangle around, as Terry walked up all the flights of stairs, without so much as breaking a sweat.

Jake considered whether or not the Sarge even _could_ sweat, but then disregarded it. Of course he could - because of that time he had sweat through his workout shirt and Gina had kept taking photos of him.

The rest of them - Gina, Charles, Amy - followed after them. Rosa had vanished, as had his dad.

When Jake asked, Gina assured him that ‘that crapsack of a pilot’ was on his way to booking, and, no, she had convinced Rosa not to gut him on the spot through her charm, not through confiscating her knives.

“As if it’s possible to even find all of them, Jakey? Come on.” She had added, looking up from her phone for an uncharacteristically long time as she reassured him.

Jake found he still cared about whether or not his dad was alive - just another issue in that pile of issues he had building off of each other.

Strangely, though, he wasn’t relieved. Just that odd sense of tension in his chest, a mix of empty satisfaction and hollow disappointment taking up room.

At least it wasn’t getting in the way of his lungs the way his dad’s presence had.

When they all traipsed into the precinct, everyone panting save Terry - who wasn’t even out of breath - Holt was standing in the middle of the precinct.

Terry didn’t set Jake down.

“Sir.” Terry said, as he set Jake down on the ground, keeping one arm out to make sure Jake was able to keep his footing. “You, go to the break room. Take a nap on the couch.”

Jake nodded quietly. Normally, Holt’s dad-like presence would be a comfort - right now, it would be making Jake uncomfortable. Except, he was too tired to really feel anything except said tiredness.

Jake traipsed to the break room, not having the energy to explain what happened. He just wanted to take a nap. And not wake up until his dad was gone from his life again. He wasn’t particularly hopeful that would work out, though.

Jake sank down into the couch, eyes slipping closed. He heard footsteps enter, but his eyelids were like deadweights, and he couldn’t open them.

“Peralta.” It was Holt. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, as was the warm item - a blanket, Jake was pretty sure - was draped over him.

“Hitchcock and Scully have given me permission to use their frozen popsicle treats from the freezer to help with the contusion you suffered.” Holt spoke, as he placed a cold, slightly wet, item onto the side of Jake’s face.

Jake hummed in acknowledgement, as the throbbing ache he hadn’t even noticed faded away.

He could sense Holt standing there, for a moment, before patting him gently on the shoulder.

It was the exact same spot his dad had grabbed him, pinned him, just a few moments ago. But Holt’s touch was reassuring, warm. It felt comforting, and Jake was asleep before he heard Holt say, quietly and not without emotion, “You’re a good kid, Jake.”

Amy slipped into the break room after Holt had left - and decided to turn a blind eye -, sitting in a chair that she pulled up next to Jake, stroking his hair and switching out popsicles as they turned melty.

Hitchcock had given back the chair lube - nearly empty, but still - and Amy was looking forward to oiling the hell out of her chair. She never wanted to hear it squeak again.

And, when Jake woke up, about an hour later, he flashed Amy a small smile, sat up, and squeezed her hand. He then proceeded to open, and eat, the popsicle she had put on his face.

The only sign anything had even happened was the red mark that, despite her efforts, was slightly bruising, and the way his eyes seemed to dart around the room before settling back on her.

It didn’t seem to effect Jake’s spirits, though, and he rose to his feet, hesitating barely a moment before opening the break room door, re-entering the bullpen and walking to his desk, Amy half a step behind.

He sat down in his chair, swiveling it around to face his, obviously concerned, team - including Rosa, who had turned back up at some point.

“Oh.” Jake cleared his throat, sitting up. “Uh, right. Well, guys, thank you. Seriously, I’m… really glad you came by when you did. And that you, uh, helped. I’m good now. Anyway… um. Nine nine!”

The bullpen said it back with slightly less manic enthusiasm, but, after that, they turned back to their work - or, in Gina’s case, wolf videos - and Jake turned back to his desk as well.

He felt his lips curve into a smile, and found that the only emotion he felt in that moment, was happiness.

Jake Peralta had a shitty, shitty dad.

But he had a great family.

And he knew which one was more important to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based off an anon request - Thank you for your request! :D  
You can submit a request as well to my tumblr (same username) for any fandom that's listed!
> 
> Comments are super appreciated!
> 
> _Full Request:_ hi! here’s a request for a b99 fic: really, just some light angst of Jake. I rlly enjoyed part 4 and 5 of your “Foray into B99” on AO3, so maybe something along those lines? If you can go off canon maybe he’s almost in a similar negative situation (with his dad again or maybe a potential date) but his team has his back right before anything terrible happens. A whole team unity theme. Bc despite being a cop who understands who’s the victim and who’s at fault, sometimes reminders help.


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